


I'll Take My Chances

by Harmonious_wordsmith



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston (Actor) - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4236858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harmonious_wordsmith/pseuds/Harmonious_wordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of a series of One-Shots I wrote for Valentine's Day:</p><p>Tom has a wonderful Valentine's planned for you, but a bout of the flu threatens the evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Take My Chances

You feel like your head is about to explode as another coughing fit overtakes you.  
“Ooooooh, kill me.” You groan. Tom is chuckling, setting a tray on the coffee table and taking a seat next to you on the couch.  
“I refuse to kill you, darling.” He checks your forehead with a cool hand, wincing at your high temperature. Your boyfriend had been obviously hard at work to ensure a perfect, romantic evening. Leave it to you to come down with a horrible cold the day before Valentine’s. Now you’ve got a full-blown influenza, complete with congestion in your sinuses and chest, a sore throat that feels like you’re swallowing razors, and a pounding headache that no painkiller could touch.  
“No, really, babe, you’d be doing me a favor.” You curl in on yourself, shivering and pulling your blanket tighter around you. “You should probably be keeping your distance if you don’t want to catch the plague.” You mutter through your stuffy nose and sore throat. He chuckles again.  
“I’m not leaving you to wallow alone on Valentine’s Day.” He smoothes your hair back, planting a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll take my chances.” He leans in to kiss you in earnest when you sneeze right in his face. He jumps back, grabbing for a Kleenex to wipe his face, chuckling a little uncomfortably.  
“I’m so sorry, babe!” You groan again, “I did tell you to keep your distance, though.” You start to giggle, but it erupts into another coughing fit.  
“That you did, darling. Now, considering I must already be infected, there’s no point in keeping my distance.” He winks and you smile sheepishly. “So,” he turns his attention to the tray, “not exactly the romantic dinner I had originally planned, but some hot soup with plenty of vegetables, fresh bread; and hot tea with honey, all of which should help with your symptoms, as well as some excellent meds.” He picks up a bottle of cough syrup, presenting it like a bottle of wine. “I hear this was a superb year for wretched tasting cough medicine.” You chuckle raggedly, running your fingers through his hair.  
“Thank you. I’m sorry I messed up your plans.”  
“No, no, no, none of that. Come on, now.” He helps you sit up and makes sure you eat at least a bowl of soup and that you take your cold medicine, and then he shifts you around as he settles in behind you, producing a book from the end table. “Comfortable?” he asks.  
You nod, leaning back against him as he starts to read,  
“Even as the sun with purple-colored face  
Had ta’en his last leave of the weeping morn,  
Rose-cheeked Adonis hied him to the chase.  
Hunting he loved, but love he laughed to scorn.  
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him  
And, like a bold-faced suitor, gins to woo him.”  
“’Thrice fairer than myself,’ thus she began,” you recite, looking up at him,  
‘The field’s chief flower, sweet beyond compare,  
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,  
More white and red than doves or roses are,’…” you catch his eye and he smiles down at you, somewhat surprised.  
“’Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,  
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.’” He whispers, kissing your forehead again.  
“I could listen to you read all night.” You sigh, and you feel his chuckle rumbling at your back,  
“And have I ever told you how sexy it is when you recite Shakespeare to me?” he whispers close you your ear. He pulls back suddenly, feeling your forehead again. “I think your fever’s broken, finally.”  
“Well, I’ve been well taken care of, doctor.”  
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered that you’re getting better, or offended that you’re actually cooling down sitting this close to me. I think I may be doing something wrong.” You laugh, wheezing and coughing,  
“Easy, tiger, at this rate, I’ll be better before you know it, and then I’ll have to find some way to thank you.”  
You snuggle back into him as he continues to read, lulling you to sleep with his steady voice.


End file.
